You know
by The Orange Lady
Summary: In a world where gnomes, murderous hunters and collapsing factory buildings are pretty normal things, why is it that Derek's boyfriend is so mad at him? What has he done this time?


**YOU KNOW**

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><p><em>Inspired by a request from Vampygurl402 for Arashi Wolf Princess, who wanted a fluffy ScottDerek fic. To me, fluffy has a loose definition. Here you go. I hope you're satisfied._

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><p><em>In a world where gnomes, murderous hunters and collapsing factory buildings are pretty normal things, why is it that Derek's boyfriend is so mad at him? What has he done this time?<em>

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><p>"You know, I have shittier taste in the people I fuck than you do," Scott growls. "You didn't know before that your hook-ups were going to, what? Murder your family, put mind control hexes on you, take your territory… You couldn't know. You had no idea." He hardly pauses as an explosive arrow hits the concrete floor by his feet and detonates. "I fucking knew what I was getting into. I fucking knew you. I knew exactly what kind of fuck up you are. And still you disappoint me."<p>

"What the fuck is it this time? Will you shut up! I'm busy, if you haven't noticed," Derek growls back. He is busy. Like, really fucking busy. Between the gnome ambush and being followed by rogue hunters, they are literally being attacked on all fronts. And of course, the abandoned factory they are in is crumbling on them in sheer spite. Because, of course they are in an abandoned factory.

"Shut up, he says. What the fuck is it, he says…" Scott's using that mocking tone that signals that he's not going to give up on whatever it is, until he's got Derek whipped and licking his feet for forgiveness.

"Scott. Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Derek manages to get a gnome in the head for every single punctuation. It's kind of like whack-a-mole, if the moles had sharp teeth and long pointy ears. Just the thought is going to fuck up arcade games for him for a very long time.

"Geez, I wonder what it could be this time. Derek, what could it be?"

"Stop it. You are worse at mind games than… Stiles."

…Which was the wrong thing to say. Wronger. Wrongest, probably. Wait, is that even a word? Scott grits his teeth together and tears a gnome's head clean off it's shoulders. Blood spurts all over his chest and dyes his blue T-shirt jet black. The T-shirt clings to Scott's cut frame, exposing sharp sinews and bulging muscles in just the right places. Damnit, Derek so doesn't need a confused boner right now.

"I don't remember, were you raised in a barn by, I don't know, inbred barn dogs?"

Dog jokes. When would anybody get tired of dog jokes? Derek gives the younger man the evil eye. Not that Scott notices, as he's focusing on dodging a rusty steel beam that falls down from the ceiling. The hunters probably dislodged it with their stupid explosives. Scott jumps out of the way the last millisecond, unscathed.

"So fucking tell me what it is!" Derek roars when the cloud of concrete dust has fallen. Scott is nowhere to be seen, but the long silence that follows is broken by a scream from one of the rogue hunters. A body falls down from the ceiling, and Scott plops down on all four, two feet away from it. A trail of blood is running down his sharp nose. It's not his, Derek can tell from the smell.

"What makes you think I'm talking to you?"

"Because you are, Scott."

"Well, you're a fugly idiot." Oh no, not that again. Was that what they were retorting to now, name-calling? Is that what their relationship is about?

"That's rich coming from Mr. Wonky Face."

"Says Mr. Wonky Morals."

"You had no problems with my morals last night," Derek snipes back. If Scott's going to be like this, well, then he bloody well can too. It doesn't matter that he likes Scott's wonky face so much he wouldn't mind licking gnome blood from it right then and there. He's not going to do that. He's not. But it's okay, since he gets to vent his frustration on the small flock of gnomes trying to make it to his shin bones, teeth first. Two manage to sink their rabbit-like teeth into him, but not for long.

"That's beside the point. Way, _way_ beside the point, Derek. You have no idea what you are talking about," Scott moans, shaking his head.

"… or the night before that, or that time behind the gym, and after we killed that yeti, and that time we did it in Stiles's bed, or what about that time when you were still in high school? And on the dissection table at Deaton's and… did I miss anything?"

"Derek. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Derek tosses two gnomes in the direction where he last saw the remaining hunters. He hits a steel beam in the ceiling with one, and the beam comes loose. If this was any other situation, he'd be insanely proud of himself.

"So fucking tell me what it is, Scott."

"I can't! You should fucking come up with this one yourself. Come on, what happened this day, say, one year ago?" Scott is sounding more and more desperate, something that Derek can't stand.

"…"

It all slowly comes back to him as an array of arrows swishes over his head. Of course his selective memory would go bad on him and bite him in the ass. Of course. His stomach lurches downwards, and suddenly Scott's bitchiness makes perfect sense.

"Scott…"

"Yeah, that's right, Derek."

"Oh god. I…"

"You what?"

"I forgot. One year ago was when we..."

"Yeah. That's right. You just forgot our first anniversary."

A grenade rolls hissing onto the floor between them, and they throw themselves behind a huge chunk of loose concrete wall. Derek's T-shirt catches on an iron rod and tears it half off. He can feel the heat of Scott staring at his exposed chest. Or was that the blast from the explosion? Who cares. Details.

"I'll make up for it. When we get out of here, I'll…"

"If you're going to take me out to that lake you think is so romantic, I'm going to bite your throat. In the non-sexy way. I swear. That might have cut it with Haley-what's-her-face you dated for like five minutes, but Derek, I'll have your head for that."

"I'll make dinner tonight." Yeah, way to go, Derek. Like making dinner ever saved the day. "…And then I'll go down on you until you beg me to stop. I'll have you beg three times. Three."

"Pfft, like you wouldn't do that at any given moment if I just asked you." Well damn. The man had a point. Derek has to think of something better. There's got to be a heroic feat that Scott wouldn't even consider worth asking him to do, something involving a great sacrifice…

"I'll… clean the bathroom," Derek grits out. It hurts to even say it.

But now, that has Scott stop in his tracks and turn toward him, looking impressed. One of his eyebrows is raised in surprise. In fact there even might be a slopsided smile creeping onto his face. Derek can see it in the flickering red flashes from the explosive arrows detonating all around them.

"Well. You'd better hurry up with the massacre so we can get out of here, buddy. I've got big plans for you tonight," Scott tells him, with promise in his voice. "I'll have to beg, you said. Three times was it? Make it five."


End file.
